


A Gentle Heart

by theleafpile



Series: What Happens in Vegas [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Big Brother Amenadiel (Lucifer TV), Breakfast, Deckerstar - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Its basically all fluff, Secrets, Sort Of, Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar Bonding, are a bloody nuissance sometimes, dealing with the aftermath of vegas, have some happy to enter your new year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleafpile/pseuds/theleafpile
Summary: After the events of Vegas, Chloe makes Lucifer promise not to tell anyone they slept together.Or that she knows he's the Devil.But both secrets? May be too much for them to keep...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _"Do not be afraid; our fate, which cannot be taken from us, is a gift."_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Dante, _Inferno_

Lucifer pulled up in front of Chloe’s apartment and stuck the Corvette in park. The detective had tucked herself deeper into her jacket and was only finally relaxing, now that the wind had let up – leaving Lucifer regretting leaving the top off, not considering how it would affect the detective.

Something he was very good at, apparently.

They had both been oddly quiet on the drive home. Lucifer wanted to blame it on the sound on the drive: the air whipping past, the low radio, the unmistakable sounds of the city as they drove deeper into its realm. But now, as they sat together in the silence, he knew it was none of those things. 

He just didn’t know what to say.

Silently, Chloe started to get out of the car. He leapt out ahead of her, opening the trunk and roughly gathering her bags. She looked at him, a small smile of thanks on her face, but otherwise said nothing as she led them toward the building. 

He followed her inside the darkened apartment, listening as she clicked on a light, the sound of her boots muted and flat in the open space. It reminded him of his own home.

 _Hollow._

She looked toward the stairs, the apprehension written plain on her face. 

“Maze is here,” he informed her, entering further to place the bags on the floor beside the couch. Belatedly, he realized he had grabbed her duffel and his garment bag, not the one Candy had loaned her. 

“How do you know?” Chloe asked, quietly. “It looks like nobody’s home.”

“You can’t hear her?” he questioned. She shook her head, but took the time to really listen. 

Still nothing.

He smiled, prideful. “I imagine she’ll be down in three – two – one –”

The demon appeared in the shadows at the top of the steps, her blade at the ready and glinting in the light. 

She relaxed upon seeing it was them, then pounded down the steps. 

“How’d you do that?” Chloe asked. Lucifer shrugged.

“Do what, Decker?” Maze asked, hitting the bottom floor. 

Chloe visibly tightened. Lucifer opened his mouth to speak.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “How – how are you?”

Maze passed them and headed into the kitchen, not noticing how Chloe leaned away from her, wide-eyed.

She elected not to answer. “You’re home early, aren’t you? Sick of Vegas?”

Chloe fumbled. “No, Vegas was fine.”

Lucifer shot her an odd look. Maze began to dig through the fridge when Lucifer leaned closer to ask Chloe a question. 

She whispered in response. He whispered back, displeased. 

Maze looked up from the fridge, wondering what possessed her roommate to act so strangely. By the time she shut the door, a handful of sliced ham in hand, Chloe was staring at her partner, eyes wide and pleading. Maze lifted an eyebrow, then tore off a piece with her teeth. 

Lucifer stood, awkwardly, as Chloe turned back to her roommate, plastering a polite smile on her face. “Going out?” 

Maze took in the two of them. “Nope.”

Chloe fell silent. 

Maze studied them in earnest now, happy to indulge in their obvious discomfort at her presence. She tore off another piece. “So what you’d guys do?” she asked, speaking around another mouthful.

“Nothing,” Chloe quickly answered.

 _Too_ quickly.

Maze turned to Lucifer for the real answer, but he had snapped his mouth shut. 

She tossed the rest of the meat in her mouth and briefly wiped her hand on a dishtowel. “Whatever,” she said, “don’t tell me. Not like I care anyway.” She passed between them, noticing this time how her roommate took a step away. 

She stopped. 

The scent of fear entered her nose. It drew her closer, lingering like a perfume she couldn’t place. Chloe, to her credit, took the scrutiny without so much as a eyetwitch. 

Maze whipped around to face Lucifer. “She knows?” 

Lucifer looked helplessly at the detective before Maze punched him, hard, in the shoulder. He righted himself quickly from the blow, holding a hand over the spot with a look of shock on his face. 

“I didn’t say anything!” he entreated, looking over the demon’s shoulder. 

“You… selfish, arrogant…” Maze tried finding other words, screwing up her mouth and shaking her head. “I finally had something okay going here and you had to go and ruin it?”

Before he could answer, she punched him in the face. 

“Mazikeen!” he shouted, holding his jaw.

“Maze,” said a softer voice behind her. She felt a gentle press on her shoulder and turned, finding Chloe with a remorseful expression. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s all new to me. It’s going to take some getting used to.”

Maze looked at the hand on her shoulder. 

“I figure if something were to happen, with me or Trixie, it would have by now. And… you’re still my friend,” Chloe assured. “Sort of.”

Maze huffed out a breath, unwilling to reveal how relieved she felt. She allowed the moment of softness to pass before whirling back around. Lucifer flinched at the sudden movement, which had Chloe suppressing an amused smirk.

Something passed between them, something that had Maze shaking her head, anger still evident in her movements. She strode away, throwing a hand over her shoulder as she headed back toward the stairs. “I’m going out,” she shouted. “Can’t deal with any more useless human emotions tonight.” 

She reached the stairs, offering Chloe a wink before scowling at Lucifer. She disappeared, leaving them both alone once more.

“You okay?” Chloe asked, stepping closer and trying not to smile. “She got you pretty hard.”

He grinned slowly at the phrasing. 

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m fine,” he assured, pulling his hand off his rapidly-reddening cheek. “But I don’t understand. What do you mean you don’t want anyone to know?”

Maze reappeared with a jacket, thudding down the stairs and passing them. Chloe remained silent until the door slammed behind her roommate.

Lucifer’s confused expression hadn’t let up. “You don’t want anyone to know about… us?” 

Chloe sighed, absently rubbing her wrist and staring at the door. His gaze flickered to the small movement, but said nothing. “It’s not that,” she said, thinking. She took in a deep breath. “If word got around the station… if Pierce found out about –”

“Pierce,” repeated Lucifer, interrupting. “Is not someone you should trust.”

She took in the information, but continued. “If anyone found out about us sleeping together, or it got around that I suddenly believe you’re _really_ the Devil, then…” 

She swallowed.

“They would most likely assign me a new partner. A lot of lieutenants know these things happen, and keep it off the books. But Pierce doesn’t strike me as the lenient type. Except… if they think I think you’re the real, _actual_ Devil, I’d have to undergo so many psych evals that my head would probably spin clear around and explode.”

“I’ve seen that happen, actually.”

She narrowed her eyes, unsure if he were joking or not, but he only smiled. “But,” she continued, “I don’t know. I’ve seen people lose their careers for less.”

He nodded, slowly understanding. 

“It’s not just that,” she continued. “I don’t want…” she sighed, looking at her wrist and forcing herself to let go. “Nobody needs to know what happened with Bianchi. And not because it was off the books, though – yeah – a lot of that.”

Lucifer’s eyes darkened at the name, the rage building swiftly beneath his skin. He caught the edge of the bite mark on her shoulder, mostly covered by her dark long-sleeve, red and angry.

She noticed and shifted her shirt to cover it, looking at the floor. “I’m just…” she tried searching for the right word. It was there, struggling in her mouth. She forced it out. “Ashamed. Of myself.”

The rage within his disappeared, leaving a sensation he had never felt before. It warmed in his chest like a dying fire blown back to life. 

“If we could just –” she continued. “I need some time. To process.”

He lowered his head. 

The sensation was one he was used to – of never wanting the night to end.

But he knew, perhaps more than anyone else, that all good things must come to an end. Perhaps that was why he rallied so much against the idea.

He took a step back, turning toward the door. “I understand.”

It wasn’t long before she said his name, stopping him. “Could you – would you mind. If you don’t have to get back. Could you stay?”

The fire within his flickered, running all the way down to his fingertips. 

He smiled. “One more not-real life day?”

She smiled shyly, open and vulnerable, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

He had to be touching her. 

Swiftly he closed the space between them, taking her into his embrace. She relaxed against him, slipping her arms around his waist and breathing him in. He felt her laugh against him, and hummed to question it. 

She pulled away just enough to answer. “Warm and fuzzy on the inside.” 

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but didn’t correct her. She tightened her embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

Later found them in her bedroom, she sitting with a knee beneath the covers and he beside her, changed into the black, silky pajama bottoms he forgot to wear on the trip. She texted Dan, letting him know she was back early and could bring Trixie by tomorrow morning before he went into work. She still had the day off, and was anxiously looking forward to doing a whole lot of absolutely nothing.

As she got ready for bed, she applied a bandage over the bite, the edge of which stuck out from beneath the collar of her gray, plain t-shirt. She had debated, as Lucifer had gone downstairs to retrieve his bag, if she wanted to wear any pajama bottoms, but in the end decided – _no._ She wasn’t going to let her experience define what she felt comfortable wearing, and so settled for being covered only by her panties.

Especially since she knew the Devil was going to be sleeping beside her.

She knew nothing was going to hurt her, with him there, with a surety that almost frightened her. It was hard to adjust. For so long she trusted him, but only just – and now. Now she knew. Knew he would do anything to keep her safe.

Downstairs, surrounded by the empty darkness, with Lucifer turning to leave – she didn’t want to admit then, certainly not to him, the truth.

She was afraid to be alone.

His eyes lingered on the strip of exposed skin on her thigh from beneath the comforter, dragging his eyes up her lean form and back to her face, quiet as she gathered her thoughts. He had never felt so content to be somewhere, to be doing nothing.

“I don’t know if I can,” he said, breaking the silence. She snapped up her eyes to meet his. 

He saw fear, there.

He hated it.

“I don’t know if I can keep what happened a secret,” he quickly explained, breathing out at the way the fear faded in her eyes. “You know I don’t lie.”

“I don’t want you to,” she said, shaking her head. “And I would never ask. But this,” she gestured to the space between them, “leaves our partnership, and my career, at stake. So, please.” She laid her hand atop his, and he turned it over, holding it. “I actually really like working with you. Most of the time,” she teased, with a smile. “I just want to keep doing that. Keep helping people. Solving cases together.”

He trailed his fingers up her wrist, then her forearm, feeling her shiver beneath him. 

When he looked back into her eyes, he saw it there again.

Fear.

He let his hand fall back down to the covers, cold.

“I’m just tired.”

He stared at the sheet. “It’s my fault,” he admitted, hating to hear the words out loud.

Her silence answered for him.

“No,” she said, after a moment too long. “I’m gonna say that was definitely both of us. And, you know, it happened. I’m a cop. I should have known better. I should have communicated my plan better.”

“I should have killed him.”

She shut her eyes at that, at the anger radiating off his body. 

She shifted closer, tucking both legs beneath the covers and pushing against him, forcing them both to lie down. She nestled into the crook of his arm as he stared at the ceiling, still seething. “Maybe next time,” she said, looking up to make sure he knew she was joking.

He didn’t.

“Lucifer,” she poked at his ribs. “I’m kidding.”

He looked down at the smile she had put on her face, trying a little too hard to move past it. He tugged her closer, resting his chin against her forehead, his other hand coming around to rub the top of her arm resting on his chest.

She wondered what he had done to Bianchi, but couldn’t bring herself to ask.

She didn’t want to know.

The day’s events replayed in her mind, and she shut her eyes, taking pleasure in the steadiness of his breath, the slight rise and fall she felt with each, the warmth of him beside her. His pajama pants were smooth against her legs, and she couldn’t help but rub a leg against them, enjoying the sensation. She settled and tried to focus on the good parts of the trip, finding herself drifting back to the look on his face when she had entered the room in that dress. 

He had been surprised, of course, but there was an underlying emotion there she was desperate to place. It struck her as a surety. A fondness.

He shifted, rubbing his back against the mattress, trying to get comfortable.

“You okay?” she asked, an amused laugh in her voice at his frustrated sigh.

“Fine.”

He settled and she closed her eyes once again, but soon enough was shifting. “Bloody things,” he murmured.

She tilted to find an irritated expression on his face, his profile just barely lit against the ambient light from the closed blinds and the city beyond. “What is it?”

He forced himself to lay still, setting his jaw and staring at the ceiling. She propped up on an elbow, studying him. Reluctantly, he looked at her bemused expression. 

He sighed dramatically. “They have a mind of their own. Never remembered it being such a nuisance.”

She let her chin fall into her hand. “Like something else I know?” she asked, eyes darting down suggestively.

His stern expression faltered, and she knew she had won. He raised up to tackle her back down, the wings exploding from his back. She laughed as he caught her, turning them both so she was lying on her back and he above her.

She ignored the pang in her wrist, choosing to concentrate instead on the sudden radiance in her room. The wings draped over the bedspread, falling off the edges of the bed, brushing the wall and dresser as he held them aloft. 

She ran her hands up his arms, the muscles taunt with him holding himself above her, before reaching his face and gently pulling him down.

He fell to kiss her, barely able to restrain his smile enough to do so. She let her hands come to his back, hesitant. 

He dropped to his forearms, nuzzling her neck. 

“What?” she asked, feeling his smile.

He shrugged lightly, unwilling to answer, and she lifted a knee to hold him in place. She was stuck, suddenly, by the difference between him now and before, in the hotel room. 

It was intimate. More intimate than when they were both naked. She had what basically amounted to the god of sexual desire in her bed, and yet here was was, cuddling the crap out of her. 

“So what are they thinking?” she asked, breathless at his tenderness as he pressed kisses to the soft, sensitive skin at her neck. “If they have a mind of their own?”

He pulled away slowly, flopping to lay on his side and propping his head up with a hand while the other stayed on her side, holding her close. He pulled in a wing, and she marveled at how easily it moved, how naturally it responded.

“Hmm,” he considered playfully. “Perhaps they just itched.”

She shoved at him good-naturedly, and he grinned.

The smile faded the longer he looked at the wing. Every fiber of her being was aching to reach out and touch it, but she forced her hands to remain still.

He wasn’t answering.

When the siren call of the divine light became too much, she buried herself in Lucifer’s chest. His hand rubbed soft circles into her back as she nestled deeper against him, able to feel the soft touch of a few of the longer feathers on her arm. “You said they were a gift,” she remembered. “From your Father.”

He hummed in response.

She lifted marginally, adjusting her head on the pillow. “But they’re part of you. Like an arm or a leg.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Or other parts.”

She ignored him. “So what makes them a gift?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he considered it. “What they allow us to do, I suppose. The power.”

His expression turned to one of anger. She could feel it building the lines of his body, powerless to stop it. 

“They come with expectations,” is all he would say.

She settled back down and splayed her hand flat against his lower back, willing him to relax.

After a moment she felt the tension give, and the warmth and weight of the wing settled over her.

Its touch sent a flow of peace through her, easing the weight of her heart. She hadn’t realized how heavy it had become.

He must have noticed the change, because he pulled back to study her, curious. 

She couldn’t be sure what he saw, but soon he relaxed, holding her loosely in his arms and letting the wing cover her more heavily.

She had never felt so loved.


	3. Chapter 3

Chloe had forgotten the feeling, if she ever truly had experienced it at all. 

Dan was always up in her space, always ready to whisk himself away with a peck on her cheek or a brief touch of lips, only willing to put in the time when he figured it would lead to more. But after being annoyed with him for doing P.D.A. at work too many times, he stopped – at work.

Then, the little touches became less frequent at home, too.

She hadn’t meant to make him feel unwelcome, to make herself unwelcoming, but his hesitance was something she found she could not remedy after a certain point, and then she found herself unwilling to try. She was used to blaming herself, even though outwardly she knew it wasn’t her fault. She only wanted him to respect her when they were at the precinct, but to Dan, she was always his wife, first and foremost. 

But now, the little brush at her ear, the whisper of _detective_ , the arms around her waist – 

She could get used to it.

_Dangerous thoughts._

She leaned over the breakfast bar with freshly brewed coffee in hand, inhaling its delicious scent and borrowing its warmth into her hands. She had showered and dressed, in simple dark jeans and a light, long-sleeve sweater, her hair up in a low bun, managing to wake up before Lucifer.

The wings had disappeared in the night, and as she rolled over, expecting – well, she wasn’t sure, but perhaps a repeat of their only night together – when she discovered her partner lying on his back, placid in repose, one arm comfortably under her neck while the other rested over his head, stretching out his long, lean form. The comforter had been pushed down off of him, leaving only the sheet covering his lower half. 

She expected him to wake at her movement, but he slept on. His expression was soft and open, his usually-impeccably tamed curls escaping.

She risked running her fingertips over his forehead, brushing back a few stray curls, but couldn’t bring herself to wake him.

Now, sleepily, he wrapped his arms around from behind her, which would have been a surprise had she not heard him pad, barefoot, down the steps. He rested his forehead against her shoulder, and she closed her eyes, enjoying his warmth. 

After a silent moment, she reached behind her and patted his thigh. “You still asleep?” 

“Hmm.”

A smile played on her lips as she took a sip of her coffee. He inhaled, then looked over her shoulder at the mug in her hands. She gestured with it toward the coffee maker, and it was only then he moved, drawn toward it.

She missed the heat at her back, but the warmth blossoming in her center at his ease in her home was nice, too.

It wasn’t long before he was rummaging around the rest of her kitchen, pulling out a pan, taking far too many things out of the fridge and cupboards and setting them on the counter in a completely unorganized way. 

“What are you doing?” she finally asked, taking in what was rapidly appearing him to be clearing her out.

“Making breakfast.”

“With everything I own?”

He smiled, gesturing to the chaos. “You’ll be enjoying it soon enough. Trust me.”

She lifted the mug to her lips. “Mm-hmm.”

That was, apparently, enough go-ahead, for it wasn’t long before a delicious scent filled the kitchen and her nostrils, winding its way down to her coffee-laden stomach, which begged for whatever it was that teased her senses.

Finally, she came around the counter, laughing at Lucifer’s showmanship as he finished pouring the eggs into the man, the toppings for an omelette on a cutting board beside the pan. “All this,” she said, shaking her head, “for that.” He had maybe used a fourth of the items he’d pulled out.

Teased, he swiftly pulled her into his arms, and she laughed at his antics. “Just wait till you try it, love.”

“Mmm,” she couldn’t resist, especially as he nuzzled into her neck, scratching his scruff against her skin, “I’m sure it’s _divine_.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, “you wouldn’t want to consume anything you found in Hell.”

The sound of the eggs, sizzling as they cooked, made her wonder what, exactly, one might find in the fires of Hell.

If there were fires. 

She hadn’t really asked him about that, yet.

He had stilled as well, considering. “Though, as they say, the Silver City doesn’t have much in the way of food, either. It’s more of a sustained-by-the-light-of-God sort of arrangement. Which, believe me, gets old.”

She remained silent. When he spoke of Heaven, it came with a hard tinge to his voice, and she didn’t want to fan that fire. He tightened his hold on her before relaxing, and they stayed like that – until the sound of a key in the lock startled her, and Trixie’s voice entered the apartment before she did, followed quickly by her father’s laugh.

Chloe whirled around, taking in Lucifer’s disheveled curls, his pajama bottoms, his black t-shirt and saw exactly what he was hoping for her to see, given his loopy smile:

_Sex._

In a panic, she pushed him back against the counter by the dishwasher, out of sight of the rapidly-opening front door. He grinned at her roughness, glancing down at her hands on his chest.

“Down!” she whispered, and the mischievous glint in his eye had her grinding her teeth. “Now!”

He opened his mouth to answer. She didn’t let him, pushing down on his shoulders hard until he collapsed onto the floor with a startled yelp. 

“Trix!” Chloe said hurriedly, turning on her heel to see her daughter rush inside like a tiny, brown-eyed hurricane.

Suspiciously, just like someone else she knew. 

“Hi, mommy!” the girl answered, happily parking herself onto a chair at the counter. 

Dan followed shortly behind, carrying their child’s backpack, slung over his shoulder like a tiny purse. “Hey, Chlo.”

Lucifer’s fingers had found their way up to her knee, and were rapidly climbing up her thigh, sending sparks of heat through the fabric. 

“I!” she caught herself, as Lucifer suddenly grabbed ahold of her inner thigh, pulling her a step closer, “wasn’t expecting you until later.”

Dan moved to set the bag down by the couch. “I told Ramirez I’d look over the Michaelson case with him. I hope it’s not a problem?”

She heard Lucifer huff at the name. She tried batting away his hand before her ex turned around, but to no avail. She glared at him before Dan turned, straightening to offer him a smile. “No, no problem,” she assured, smiling at her daughter. 

“You making breakfast?” he asked.

“Some detective,” Lucifer muttered.

“What?” Dan asked, stepping closer. 

Chloe kicked Lucifer in the shin. Hearing him jerk against the cupboards was particularly satisfying. He retracted his hand. 

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, truthfully. She looked down at the pan, and the eggs, which were rapidly browning. “And, yes. Breakfast.”

Trixie, silent, lifted a little out of her seat to look over the edge. A knowing smile came across her face.

Dan approached and Chloe quickly stepped around, coming to meet him halfway. “You just… surprised me, is all,” she told him, wondering when she had picked up Lucifer’s habit of telling half-truths. “If I had known you were coming early, I would’ve made more.”

He patted his stomach, taking in the smells with a good-natured smile. “Oh, well. Next time.”

Chloe smiled, tight lipped, hearing Trixie slide out of the chair.

“So the Ramierz file?” she asked, watching Trixie out the corner of her eye as she slowly entered the kitchen.

“The Michaelson file,” Dan corrected. “With Ramierz.”

“Right,” she answered, distracted. Trixie hadn’t said anything – loudly. She appeared to be whispering to the eggs.

“Yeah, Ramierz is stuck between two suspects. Actually, I could use your opinion,” he continued, pulling Chloe further away.

Chloe cast one long look over her shoulder.

 

Trixie stuck a hand on her hip, taking in Lucifer with an adult gaze. He stared back, cheeks rapidly reddening under the scrutiny. 

The child looked back at her parents talking, her mother’s concerned gaze.

She smiled. 

Trixie turned back to Lucifer, holding out a hand. He gestured helplessly to his pajamas. She shook her hand, waiting expectantly.

“What do you want?” he whispered, harshly.

She considered, then opened her mouth to yell. Lucifer’s hand darted out, stopping her. She lowered at the waist, whispering staccato. “You owe me one.” 

Reluctantly, he bowed his head, agreeing. 

 

“Sounds good, Chloe,” Dan finished. “Baby,” he called out. Trixie came around the counter, smiling as smugly as a nine-year-old could manage, which happened to be a hell of a lot.

As they hugged goodbye, Chloe caught sight of Lucifer’s arm taking the pan in hand, the omelette flung into the air in a quick flip before the pan settled back onto the stove with a muted clang. 

She hurried Dan out the door with a quick goodbye. As soon at the door shut, she smacked her face in her hand. 

Lucifer, sensing the all-clear, stood, clucking at the state of the eggs. “Nearly ruined,” he told them, “but, as always, I’ve managed to save the day.”

Trixie beamed.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucifer slid the omelette onto a plate, gliding it onto the counter in front of the child before busying himself with making another.

Trixie ignored it, instead looking between her mother and Lucifer, a grin on her face so wide she may break it. 

Chloe shook her head in her hand, trying to think of a way to explain the situation to her child.

Apparently, she didn’t have to.

“Did you guys have sex?” Trixie asked enthusiastically, which left Lucifer choking on air and Chloe snapping her face up and hand out, as though she could stop the question from reaching her ears.

“Beatrice Grace Espinoza! Language!” 

Lucifer pointed at the child with the spatula. “To be fair, she didn’t curse,” he delightedly informed, always happy to find loopholes.

Trixie looked at her mother sympathetically. “Okay,” she sighed, sarcasm evident in her tone. “Did you guys have a sleepover?” 

“Yes,” Chloe reluctantly answered, walking back over. “We did.” She came around the counter, grabbing silverware and cutting the omelette in half. She handed her daughter a fork before cutting off a bite for herself. “Eat.”

As soon as the food hit her mouth, Chloe moaned, “Oh, my God.”

She could feel Lucifer’s eye roll, but the grin hadn’t left. It was so different than his default smile, the one he used – she knew – unconsciously, to get people to like him more, to make himself seem more trustworthy. It was more relaxed, unhurried – if confused – as it found a home on his face.

“You know what I mean,” she corrected. 

Trixie’s half of the food was gone in seconds. Chloe wasn’t sure she had even tasted it, in her excitement. “What are we gonna do today?” she asked, bouncing in her seat.

Chloe sighed. There went her lazy day.

Lucifer pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, startling her. Trixie’s eyes widened, but she remained silent. Chloe blushed as he snaked a hand around her waist.

“I have a few ideas,” he murmured into her ear.

She smacked him away playfully. “ _You_ have to eat, then shower,” she told him, then turned her attention to her daughter, “then _we_ have to go grocery shopping because apparently we don’t have enough food in the house to feed the three of us.”

Both children in her life groaned.

She may have gotten more satisfaction from that than she’d be willing to admit.

 

Lucifer had thought he would be fine. 

He was so, horrifically, wrong.

The detective and her offspring had stepped out to purchase more sustenance, the child complaining they had just gone the other day. Lucifer was flabbergasted, unsure how anyone could survive on what little resources the detective stocked – surely, they would have both died of malnutrition, had he not been there to interfere.

She had patted him on the rear as he jauntily ascended the stairs toward her shower, eager to clean back up into his impeccable self. He jolted in surprise before turning, descending a few steps like a predator moving in. She laughed as he threw out an arm, capturing her mouth in a kiss, dipping her back. She could barely kiss back, the smile on her face getting in the way.

It was better than actually kissing her, though that – 

That had been, and continued to be, impossibly captivating. 

He wanted to know every kiss she had to offer. He’d felt her lips against his, sleepy in the morning. He’d felt them in the throes of passion, barely brushing over his as they breathed in each other’s breaths. He’d known her open mouthed kiss, wet and needy, just this side of orgasm before she couldn’t control herself any longer and gave in. He’d felt her laugh against his mouth, and he drank it in, the sensation entering him as warm and fleeting as feeling sunlight on his body for the first time.

He righted them and she gently pushed him away. He could hear them leaving as he showered, even over the sound of his humming. He definitely frowned at the quality of her products, vowing to buy her new ones, but used them all the same. 

(He may have enjoyed smelling like her, but he wasn’t going to be admitting that – even to himself.)

(Also he definitely used her moisturizer. And maybe her eyeliner. Just a little.)

By the time he descended, dressed in the last suit he’d brought (for the drive home, but he had never changed out of his Armani, too restless to get out of Vegas), the house was quiet and empty. He stood in the center of the living room, listening to the silence.

To his astonishment, he found himself missing the sound of her voice, the sound of the child’s voice. He shook his head to clear it, patting his pockets to see where he had put his keys, when – suddenly – he was back in the penthouse.

Startled, Lucifer’s wings flaunted behind him, proud to be used.

He pulled one to look at it up close, lifting a finger to admonish it. “Now you listen,” he started, and the wing tried to retract. He held it fast, staring into its white depths and narrowing his eyes. “Don’t look so proud. I’ve had enough of your insubordination.”

The wing drooped slightly. The other fluffed happily.

He shot a disapproving look at it.

The sound of a deep laugh rumbled through the apartment. Lucifer lowered the wing enough to see Amenadiel, standing at the bar, martini glass in hand filled with some horrendous pink liquid that was definitely not a martini, neat or otherwise.

“It’s not funny,” Lucifer argued, as his brother came around the bar. “Aren’t you the one always so concerned with humans finding out about the divine and other of Father’s ridiculous nonsense?”

Amenadiel took a sip of his drink, the glass tiny in his hand, and chose not to answer.

“They don’t listen to me!”

“Color me surprised,” he chuckled. “They’re part of you, Luci. Even you don’t listen to yourself. Who would have guessed.”

Lucifer rolled his shoulders back, tucking the infernal things away. He moved toward the bar instinctively, pouring himself a drink and taking it over to the piano without so much as a sip. He sat at the keys, fingers brushing over the ivory, unable to help the smile peeking through on his face.

Amenadiel ducked his head, stepping forward. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing with his drink. “That, on your face.”

“On my…?” Lucifer asked, then realized. He wiped it away. “Can’t hold your… whatever it is you call that concoction, brother?”

“It’s a Mango Tango, and it’s delicious.”

“Tell me I don’t have supplies enough to make any creation with that name. Did you smuggle them in?”

“You’re avoiding the question, Luci,” he informed, taking another sip and smiling before setting it on a standing table. 

Lucifer downcast his eyes, feeling the smile return, as unbidden as the use of his wings.

Bloody Hell. At this rate, he’d be inept at keeping secrets.

Secrets.

The detective – Chloe – asked they keep things between them. Did that include his brother?

He straightened, unsure. “I can’t tell you.”

Amenadiel, used to Lucifer’s evasiveness, started to move toward a chair to settle in. Lucifer leapt to his feet, taking his brother by the arm and escorting him back toward the elevator. “Honestly,” he said, hitting the button and walking away, “don’t you have a home to waste your time in, instead of breaking into mine?”

Amenadiel studied Lucifer’s back as he strode, noting the looseness in his gait, the tension gone in his shoulders. He smiled to himself, stepping into the open elevator.

He hadn’t seen the light bringer in a long, long time.

He threw out a hand, stopping the door. “And how is the detective?” he asked.

“Chloe is fine,” Lucifer threw over his shoulder, just as he reached the stairs.

Amenadiel let the doors shut, letting a laugh escape as he looked toward the floor. 

After a moment, he quieted, the smile still stuck on his face. 

Then, he looked up.


	5. Chapter 5

To his surprise, when Lucifer sat at the piano, Adagio in D minor came from his fingertips.

The dark melody from his right hand flowed as rhythmically as footprints, at first supported by the deep, dark notes from his left. They happily continued together, the right hand pressing into higher keys as the left joined in more eagerly, excited to find a cadence that suited them both.

Until the right slowed, tentative and unsure, as though it were travelling deeper into a forest and the shadows were growing. It changed, becoming lower, unwilling to stop moving forward but becoming more guarded.

As the woods darkened, the deeper notes changed from supportive to leading, moving in tandem with the light. They ushered them along, pressing forward, eagerly, as the right followed.

Soon, they came into a ray of moonlight and the light listened, glowing brightly in the darkness.

They slowed until it was just the lighter notes marveling, before the deeper notes met it in the end, and together, they bathed in the moonlight.

“Sunshine,” he murmured, saying the name of the piece aloud. It was followed by a small laugh as he pulled his hands onto the top of the piano, studying them. 

He played on, leaving the glass of amber liquid untouched.

 

Chloe had thought she would be fine.

She was so, horrifically, wrong.

She hadn’t had to deal with people since – since the incident. As she and Trixie walked into the store, Chloe felt her cop instincts kick into overdrive. She gave a quick once-over to the older man beside the avocados, the young, lanky clerk stocking sandwiches, nearly jumping out of her skin as a large man overtook them in the chip aisle, reaching over her shoulder with a soft “excuse me” to grab a bag of Maria’s tortilla chips, his other hand occupied by a case of beer.

Trixie, who usually wandered down the aisle away from her mother, ducking into the next one as she lagged behind, only managed to reach the end of the drink aisle before Chloe shouted out her name in such a panic that the girl returned swiftly to her side, unsure.

Chloe steadied her breathing, forcing herself to push the cart at an entirely normal pace. She kept her eyes locked on the checkout clerk, a twenty-something young man still speckled with acne, ignoring Trixie’s begging to get gummy bears. 

The clerk kept his eyes downcast, scanning the items and putting them in the bags, feeling the weight of her gaze.

As she slid back into the driver’s seat, she noticed how tightly she was gripping the wheel. Trixie buckled herself into the backseat, silent. 

She breathed out a hard exhale, letting go of the wheel and forcing herself to relax. In a swift motion, she pulled down the sun visor and looked in the mirror, adjusting it to her shoulder as she tugged the collar of her sweater to the side. The bandage sat, placid and white, against her skin.

She lifted a corner with a grimace, her skin still stuck to the glue, until the bite was plainly visible. Only a few teeth had broken the skin, leaving a thin, red line connecting them. The wound didn’t appear as angry now as it did then, having been disinfected and covered in healing ointment, but it was still red, and still enough that she would be prudent to cover it for a few more days.

“Are you okay, mommy?” her child’s voice came from the back.

Nothing had come of it. She hadn’t gotten any closer to discovering Bianchi’s movements, or anything that could tie him to… well, anything. 

She had her word, though. With her testimony, the testimony of an officer, she could at least put him away for a short time, or get him further on the police’s radar. 

But that meant telling everyone what had happened, how she went after him unsanctioned, without back-up – 

No. It just wasn’t possible.

Slowly, she recovered the wound, adjusting her collar.

“I’ll be fine, monkey,” she assured, disliking the thinness of her voice. “Don’t you worry about it.”

 

Back home, she and Trix were unpacking the groceries as Maze barged in. 

Chloe looked up in a panic, but Maze’s blasé attitude reminded her that there was no emergency – she just always came in like that.

She had just finished putting away the stuff that needed to be cold when Trixie pulled the demon into the kitchen, handing her a can of soup and telling her where it should go. Maze looked at the object, shrugged, and did as the child suggested.

Chloe, against her better judgement, left them to complete the task. (Which was probably why, later, she searched for a can of tomato sauce for pasta, only to find it in the dishwasher. The fact that she had thought to look there at all told her something about herself she didn’t know.)

After some excuse passed her lips, she retreated to the sanctity of her bedroom. The white comforter and curtains, the laundry basket in the corner, the dresser with her mother’s old jewelry box atop it, all soothed her. Lucifer must have made the bed before he left, for the corners were tucked exactly as one might find… in a hotel room.

Two discordant images played in her mind, overlapping in their vying for attention: 

One, of she and Lucifer, in the bed at Vegas, her fingers brushing over the edge of the wings for the first time, his gentleness as he hovered over her, his skin warm and inviting and his expression, breathless with wonder – 

And of Bianchi, pinning her onto his bed, the dress strangling her legs as he shoved it aside, thrusting his fingers inside her – 

And then, other – 

She shut her eyes, trying to steady herself.

A sharp pain caught her attention, and she looked down, not knowing she had been pressing a thumb directly in the center of her bruised wrist.

The fear, which had been lying low in the back of her mind, pounced.

She found her phone, turning it over in her hands as she sat on the bed. She had made Lucifer promise not to tell anyone.

She hadn’t made any such promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The link to the song Lucifer played, "Sunshine."
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibMDUjMS5Jo


	6. Chapter 6

Lucifer played well into the night, stopping only when he realized the light had dimmed in the apartment. He looked out onto the balcony, surprised. 

He lifted out of the seat, stretching before he reached for his phone, swiping through and ignoring dozens of messages and notifications, only to find that the detective had not been among them.

He went through his messages again, just to check.

Nothing.

He furrowed his brows slightly, wondering why she wouldn’t have texted him, at least. The thought flashed in his mind of her at her apartment, curious as to what she may be – 

Until he found himself, suddenly, standing in her living room, his wings sending a gust of wind throughout the space.

He gritted his teeth, shooting them a scathing look. He hadn’t even changed.

Maze turned from the couch, disapproval plain on her face, discordant with the laughing soundtrack emanating from the television. Trixie popped up from beside her.

“Hi, Lucifer,” she said happily, with a small wave.

He rolled his shoulders, tucking the wings away. The child slid back down beside her friend, directing her attention to the show once more – apparently angel wings weren’t enough to distract her. 

Lucifer strode over, unamused at the amused expression on the demon’s face. “I can’t help it,” he admitted. “Though it certainly saves on gas.”

“I never knew you were so concerned with global warming,” Maze deadpanned.

“Well. Don’t need Earth becoming like Hell, do we?” he quipped. Tentatively, he reached out, patting the child’s head to get her attention. “Where is your mother?”

Trixie shrugged animatedly. “She went upstairs.”

“A while ago,” Maze added, with a look that Lucifer was sure he was supposed to understand.

He did not.

Lucifer grinned. “Whatever could she be doing?” he wondered aloud, seeing images of his detective in various naughty positions – all self-induced, of course.

Maze reached out, stopping him, a wary look on her face. She tried to think of something to say.

She let go, giving up.

He took her expression into advisement, advancing quietly up the stairs.

 

How long she had stared at the phone, she didn’t know. She forced herself to leave the room, to do laundry, to check emails, to Swiffer the floors and check the mail, to make sure that Trixie had something to eat for dinner, but soon enough she found herself in her room once again. 

Alone.

Staring at the phone.

Finally, she dialed.

 

Lucifer sneakily approached, keen to listen in to whatever sounds the detective may make when she found herself without his company.

He hadn’t been expecting _that_.

She was obviously speaking on the phone to someone, only able to catch one side of the conversation. He slinked up to the door, careful not to lean against it as he listened. She was pacing.

“It was just for a…” he heard her pause, and furrowed his brows, curious. “For a second. Or a minute.”

She sighed. “Yeah. A minute too long. But yeah, I know. And, uh. Lucifer –”

He perked up at his name.

“– and I didn’t. You know. Use anything, either,” she continued, then listened to whoever on the other line. Something made her laugh, but it was cold and disbelieving. “No, I don’t think. Well. I don’t really know. You know how he is.”

Another huff of breath, almost a laugh. He pressed against the doorframe.

“Not that I’m afraid,” she quickly responded. He heard the bedsprings give as she sat. “I just…” She listened. “No, it wasn’t long enough for that. Thank God.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

But – what wasn’t long enough? They had certainly been long enough. Or, not nearly, given how much he ached for her touch, even now.

Nearly twelve hours, in fact. He hadn’t gone that long with someone since the all-night Dionysus celebrations in Rome.

Not that they had had sex the entire time. They spent much of it lounging together, exploring, talking.

It was… better. Than just sex.

Which, in itself, was a revelation worthy of the name.

“Thank you, Ella,” she responded, her voice more steady, now. “No, tomorrow will be fine. I would’ve come today, but I thought it might be weird to come in when I’m still supposed to be on vacation.”

He heard her come closer to the door, and realized she probably would be less than enthused about his eavesdropping. As the door handle moved, he panicked, quickly darting around and stumbling into Maze’s room just as she opened the door.

The door shut half way behind him. Hearing nothing, Lucifer turned, distracted by the apparent explosion that had overtaken the demon’s room. Clothes and things that only just barely qualified as clothes were strewn around the room, in various shades of red and black. Her closet door was propped open by a pile, and he leaned to look inside the dark space, smiling at the equipment he recognized. 

“Lucifer.”

He whirled back around at his name, only to find Chloe standing in the hallway, having pushed open the door. 

“What are you doing?” 

_Listening in to a private conversation I’m not sure you would appreciate._ “What… does it look like I’m doing?”

She put a hand on her hip, waiting. His eyes darted to the phone, which she noticed.

“Were you –”

“Ah-hah!” he interrupted, hastily grabbing for a random object on the floor. “I found it.”

“Found…?”

He lifted it from underneath a pile of clothing. 

_It_ just so happened to be a Hello Kitty vibrator. 

In neon pink.

It wiggled enthusiastically in his hand, and he wondered why on Earth Maze owned such a thing. “Oh.”

“That’s what you were looking for.”

“Uh,” he said helplessly. “This is not the dildo I was looking for.”

“But you were looking for… one.”

Lucifer carelessly tossed it over his shoulder, eager to get the thing out of his sight.

It landed on the bed and turned on. They both stilled, listening to the vibrating hum. 

“Detective!” he said jovially, clapping his hands and starting the conversation anew. “Imagine seeing you here.”

“I live here,” she answered, trying to push the sound from her mind. She stepped into the room, but he blocked her from going any further. “Can you please shut that thing off?” 

“Getting you all excited, detective?” he purred, leaning down to speak in her ear. 

“No,” she said sharply, turning to face him.

He backed off, reaching to the bed to click it off. 

The silence enveloped them uncomfortably. 

She exhaled. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking into his confused expression. 

“No need to apologize,” he said, softly. 

Something in his words carried weight, and she knew then that he knew – even if he didn’t quite understand.

Lucifer stopped himself from reaching out to her as she backed away, gesturing over her shoulder for him to follow. He made for the stairs but she went into her room, and he turned on his heel, shortly behind.

“Shut the door, please,” she asked, taking a seat on the bed.

She stood again, restless.

He did as she asked.

“Remember when I took a sample of your blood, and told you I was going to test it?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

He considered it. “Come to think of it, I was curious why there wasn’t more –”

“Do you have any STDs?” she asked, the words stumbling over one another in a rush to leave her mouth.

He nearly laughed, and she suddenly felt very, embarrassingly stupid. 

“Father, no,” he chuckled. “I’m immortal, remember? Impervious to all that ails humankind?”

“But not with me,” she responded, quietly.

“You didn’t seem particularly concerned with this sort of thing before,” he questioned, stepping closer.

She stepped away.

He stopped.

“I just was remembering how many times you said you always wore condoms, and to be fair, in the moment, with the – you know –” she made a motion with her hands, “ _freaking angel wings_ , I wasn’t really thinking about it.”

He studied her unease. “I wear them because it’s, frankly, more sanitary. And easier to switch between –”

She shot him a look.

“– certain areas. Or partners.” he decided. “But mostly, I do it to make my partners feel at ease. You can’t have the _best night of your life_ when there are nagging worries in the back of your mind.”

She nodded, staring somewhere at the floor beside him.

He decided to go all-in. “Also impossible for me to father the antichrist, I’m afraid. Father took away our ability to procreate long before the flood. So the world will just have to keep on turning, for better or for worse.”

After a moment, he caught a small smile forming on her face. She lifted her eyes to meet his. “So, what you’re saying is,” she started.

“Don’t say it,” he warned.

“You’ve been snipped?” she finished, the smile broadening on her face. 

He groaned, throwing his head back. She approached, lifting a hand and making the most sinister mock of scissors he had ever seen. “Clipped against your will?” she teased. “Took the life right out of you?”

He couldn’t help it – the glimmer in her eye made him laugh. 

“Doesn’t mean you’re any less of a _man_.”

He wrapped his arms around her, trying to smuggle her words in his chest. 

“Not a man,” he answered, even against her struggling form. He knew she was only joking, for her arms came and wrapped around his waist.

Breathless, she pulled back, laughing as she looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“You know exactly what I mean, don’t even deny it,” he told her, freeing a hand to touch her nose.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she whispered, tilting her face up.

He chuckled as he kissed her. She could feel his laugh surrounding her, as warm as his body against hers.

“Hey!” came a sharp voice from somewhere behind him. They broke apart, him still holding her in his arms as he turned to face Maze, standing in the doorway.

She held up the vibrator.

“Why is this out?” she demanded.

Chloe burst into laughter and Lucifer quickly did the same, tucking himself into her neck to cover his grin.

Chloe did her best to push down her unease, easier now with Lucifer’s comforting embrace around her, and it slunk back.

For now.


	7. Chapter 7

Chloe giggled as Lucifer nuzzled her neck, his scruff tickling her sensitive skin there. She tried to push him off, to no avail – he simply held on tighter.

“So this, too, huh?” Maze asked, unwilling to be forgotten. 

Chloe turned enough to look at her roommate, trying to stifle another burst of giggles at the dildo, limp in her hand. 

“We are terrible at keeping secrets, darling,” he murmured in her ear. “Or, you are.”

“Hey!” Chloe protested. “I’m not the one hugging the stuffing out of me.”

“You really just get everything you want, don’t you, Lucifer?” Maze asked.

Finally, he straightened, loosening his embrace. “Certainly waited long enough,” he told her. The phrasing didn’t really sit right with Chloe, who leaned away. “Never been one for delayed gratification, you know.”

Chloe stepped fully out of his embrace as Maze shook her head.

“Oh, I know,” she said pointedly. “Whatever. But you know,” she lifted the dildo threateningly, “when you get all butthurt and want to go home, know that I’m not going back to Hell.”

Chloe took the opportunity to move out of the way. The two were squaring off with one another. 

“I would take you more seriously, were you not trying to use a sex toy as a weapon. And a pathetic one at that. I mean,” he chuckled, “Honestly. I thought you had better taste.”

Chloe moved around beside her roommate and over the threshold of the door. 

“You know exactly what I can do with this,” Maze responded.

“Oh, I’m very aware of your unique skillset, Mazikeen.”

Chloe considered the breakable items in her bedroom – thankfully, not many – and left them to it.

On the way down the stairs, she heard a distinctive thump, and smiled. She’d know that _ow!_ from anywhere.

“Monkey,” she called out, catching sight of her daughter on the couch. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

 

Lucifer sat on the floor, rubbing a spot on his jaw. “I understand the kick, Maze, but the face? With that? Really. I’d prefer to be pummeled with something significantly less… pink.”

She lifted a scarred eyebrow, standing over him. 

Eventually she offered a hand, which he took, and together they stood.

“Why do you even have that?”

“Gag gift,” she answered easily. She looked at it adoringly. “But we’ve had some fun.”

Lucifer managed to look aghast at her sense of style, but shook it off. “You really don’t want to go back to Hell?” 

She shrugged. “It’s Hell.”

“But it’s your home, isn’t it?”

She remained silent. 

“You know, home is where the Hell is. Where when you go –”

“– they have to take you in,” she finished for him. “Yeah, that sounds like Hell.” 

He took the moment to agree. It was short lived.

“You were made there,” he pressed on. “Grew up there.”

“Ran there, got exiled there,” she continued. “Like you’ve said. It wasn’t home. It couldn’t be.”

“For a demon? I know it was punishment for me, but surely –”

“Because,” she interrupted, softly, her gaze turned to somewhere out the door. The sound of Trixie’s laughter floated up the stairs, and Chloe’s admonishing Mom Tone, though there was a playfulness behind it that suggested the girl wasn’t doing anything all that bad. Maze noticed Lucifer staring. Quickly she hardened. “Because it wasn’t.”

And, in that moment - he _understood._ Hell was as much home to her as Heaven was to him.

She left the room, detouring just enough to toss the makeshift weapon into her bedroom before pounding down the stairs, Lucifer at her heels.

“So why would you think I would ever want to go back?” he questioned. She rolled her eyes. He grabbed her arm, stopping her halfway down the steps, an imploring look on his face.

“Because I know you, Lucifer. Better than you do. As soon as you hit a snag somewhere, you run.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do.” She lowered her voice. “So you better get your shit together and treat Chloe right, or even Hell won’t be able to hide you from me.”

He released her arm, leaning back warily. “Noted.”

She gave a curt nod, then continued down.

 

Trixie, safely tucked beneath an extra cover from the chill in the air, listened to her mother finishing the story. Lucifer had left not long ago, standing awkwardly in the center room with Chloe, boxed between the girl in the bathroom and the demon in the kitchen. He fiddled with his keys, said something about having to go back to check on Lux, having been away for a few days.

It was a real reason, he thought, but noted the way his wings didn’t bother with making it happen. 

Chloe patted him on the arm, understanding. He caught her hand in his on the way down, brushing his fingers over hers for only a moment.

He drove home, turning up the radio as loud as his ears could stand.

Chloe shut the book, then leaned to kiss her daughter on the forehead.

“Mommy,” Trixie said sleepily. 

“Yes, baby?”

“Do you know Lucifer is an angel?”

She searched for clues in her child’s expression, but found nothing other than her usual, tired self. “What makes you say that?”

Trixie yawned. Chloe tried to wait patiently for an answer and she finished, snuggling deeper under the covers and closing her eyes.

“Monkey?” Chloe prompted. “Why do you think Lucifer’s an angel?”

The child sleepily shrugged. 

Chloe decided to let it be, tucking the covers in around her chin and moving away. 

“Because he protects us, right?” she murmured.

Chloe felt the ghost of the fear she had held inside her, when Malcolm kidnapped her daughter, when she saw Lucifer get shot and fall to the floor, dying, and she powerless to stop it. Even though she had been the one to eventually put Malcolm down, she knew that without Lucifer, he would have killed them both.

And the more recent memory, of her nearly being shot and instead having her lieutenant save her life, rose alongside it, unbidden. Lucifer had been gone. He had left her, for some excuse she couldn’t remember now. Something she must have thought was crazy, as usual.

He had been acting out. 

Now, she may have understood why. He didn’t want to be an angel.

He _wanted_ to be the Devil.

“Yeah,” she answered the child. “He tries to.”

She pulled the door shut behind her, taking one last, long look at the stream of light on her daughter’s face. She drifted toward sleep, her expression as gentle as only a child can possess.

Chloe remembered the calming weight of Lucifer’s wing on her shoulder, letting the memory flood her body with the feeling. The wings he didn’t want.

She turned toward the stairs to face the night.

Alone.


	8. Chapter 8

Lux didn’t take long to sort out – a short chat with his lead bartender got him up to speed on what they needed to order, as well as a few raunchy stories from the weekend he was gone. The crowd thrived this evening, with people visiting friends and relatives for the holiday, and just as eager to show off their town as they were to get away from forced familial relations.

He could sympathize. 

He leaned against the bar, nursing a drink more by habit than anything else, and surveyed the crowd. A generous mix of beautiful people greeted him, in Christmas reds and holiday blues, in sleek black and white, a few in dark, shimmering green.

A brush of blonde hair over a shoulder caught his attention, but it wasn’t the detective.

Of course it wasn’t the detective. She was at home, with her spawn, and obviously _not here_.

He finished the drink, handing it back to be refilled.

Then, the sight of a long leg would capture him, only to find himself disappointed when it didn’t lead up to Chloe’s thigh. 

A slit in a dress that reminded him of another left a bad taste in his mouth, and he asked for a different kind of scotch. 

A laugh, flirty and joyous, would carry through the crowd to him, and he’d turn toward it, seeking it out.

But it wasn’t her.

It never was.

He turned away the few whose gaze lingered a little too long, who slid beside him in an overly-familiar way. He found himself backing away from brushing hands, until finally he called it a night, retreating to his penthouse for some peace.

It had been three hours since he’d last touched her, and he hated himself for knowing that.

It had been 16 since he’d been in her bed.

28 hours since they’d had sex.

Never had the weight of time pressed so heavily upon him. He’d gone longer without sex – just barely, since coming topside – but as he fumbled to remove his jacket, he felt that this was different. He threw it aside, popping open a button at his collar and heading toward the bar. His body veritably sang with the need for her touch, warm and humming beneath his skin.

Not just any touch.

Hers.

_Bloody Hell._

He forewent the glass and went straight for the bottle.

 

37 hours and counting, and Lucifer was burning.

He had never been happier to enter the precinct, if only it meant he could see her, if he could touch her again. He strode inside, his black suit standing out among the more casual attire of the detectives and uniforms of the officers. He didn’t bother with a vest – too constricting, when all his skin cried out for freedom. 

Even his bloody wings ached to be loose, but he forced them away. 

Chloe was speaking to an officer beside her desk, her back to him. She wore simple dark jeans and black blouse, tucked loosely in the front. Her hair cascaded down her back in golden waves, which made his mouth go dry with the memory of her in that dress.

The officer walked away as Lucifer approached. Dan came into her line of sight first, tapping a file against his hand and speaking to her. 

Lucifer snuck up behind her, suddenly remembering – 

_No one was supposed to know._

He stopped himself just short of reaching out, aborting the movement. “Sounds awful,” he told Dan, jumping into the conversation.

Chloe nearly jumped out of her skin, shocking all three. “Jesus, Lucifer,” she said, her voice shaky. 

“Those are two entirely different things.”

“Don’t do that,” she warned.

Beside her, Dan laughed. “Geeze, Chlo. Jumpy much?”

She straightened, shooting Lucifer a look that spoke only of hurt. He wanted to reach out, but instead found himself taking half a step away, giving her space. She brushed her hair behind her ear nervously as she turned toward Dan to continue their conversation. 

Dan’s eyes landed on her wrist, the fabric having dropped away enough to reveal the purple and yellow bruising.

He reached forward to grab at it. She hurriedly pulled the sleeve down, shocked that he would so blatantly reach for her.

“What happened?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“Nothing,” Chloe lied.

Beside her, Lucifer huffed, residual anger building.

Dan’s eyes jumped to him. “What happened?” 

“Hey, you don’t get to ask him,” Chloe interfered.

Lucifer answered anyway. “Nothing I’m permitted to discuss, I’m afraid.”

Chloe shut her eyes in frustration. She could feel Dan’s concern turn to anger, pulsing off him in waves. “No, you don’t get to pull your George Washington bullshit on me, pal. What happened?”

Lucifer remained blessedly silent, for which Chloe was thankful.

“Did you lay a hand on her?” he asked, shoving himself between a very surprised Chloe and her equally unamused partner.

“You may need to define that for me. You see, I’m under very strict orders not to discuss –”

Dan raised a finger, getting right into Lucifer’s face. “If you laid a finger on her –”

“Guys!”

Lucifer pushed closer, bristling. “Matter of fact,” he began, but never got the chance to finish.

Dan caught him with an uppercut to the jaw, the force behind it knocking Lucifer clear to the floor. 

“Are none of you lefties!” Lucifer shouted, holding his jaw.

Dan pounced to straddle Lucifer, ignoring Chloe as she tried to pull him off. Dan got in a few good hits before Lucifer shoved him back – with enough force that the detective flew straight across the room and into his desk chair, both of them clattering to the floor.

Everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch, and the place was silent before a sharp, demanding voice barked out their names. “Decker! Espinoza! Morningstar! My office! Now!”

Chloe shot a scathing look to Lucifer and he offered a pathetic one in return. She quickly strode over to Dan, who waved off her offer of help. Tense and embarrassed – especially as she caught Ella’s concerned eye as she watched – she marched toward the Lieutenant’s office, only to be followed by the two men, keeping their distance from one another.

Marcus stood behind his desk, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked to Lucifer, his expression an odd mix of bored and somewhat amused. “Is this really how you’re choosing to spend your time on Earth?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Lucifer answered, setting his jaw.

Chloe gaped, open mouthed, at the lieutenant. She snapped to face Lucifer. “He knows?”

“Yes, well, it’s all on the very D.L. at the moment.”

“Unlike other things,” she said, gritting her teeth.

“Guys,” Dan injected, exasperated and exhausted. “What the hell is going on.”

Lucifer opened his mouth, but both Marcus and Chloe lifted a finger to stop him. 

“Espinoza, take the rest of the day off,” Marcus advised.

Dan opened his mouth to speak.

“You’re behavior is embarrassing and your conduct is unbecoming an officer,” Marcus snapped, “so you’re damn lucky I’m only giving you that. Get out of my sight.”

Dan hesitated, looking to Chloe. 

“Now,” Marcus warned.

Lucifer watched as Dan huffed out the room, straightening his jacket.

Marcus stared at Lucifer. “Whatever is happening here,” he gestured between the two of them, “keep it out of my precinct.”

Lucifer made to leave, but Chloe stood firm. 

“Detective?” both men asked at the same time.

Slowly, she gave Lucifer a look that he recognized as her cop-face, the one she made when she wasn’t going to be letting go of something anytime soon. He let go of the door handle with a sigh, returning to her side.

“May I?” asked Lucifer, lifting a lazy hand between Chloe and the lieutenant.

“No,” Marcus sternly answered.

They stared one another down. 

“What is it they say about secrets, Lieutenant?” asked Lucifer, eyes dark.

Marcus glanced toward Chloe, bored and not willing to put up with her partner’s antics.

For once, she didn’t return to the expression. 

Because she knew there was more to the story. 

For once.

Marcus’ gaze hardened, but stayed on her. “Three can keep a secret,” he told her, before directing his attention to the Devil in the room. “If two of them are dead.”

Chloe stepped back in shock while beside her, Lucifer growled. She felt it in her bones, feral and inhuman. It reverberated throughout the room. 

Marcus only looked sympathetically at her, then lifted a hand as he took a seat. “You’re dismissed.”

“I don’t want to be dismissed.”

“You’re dismissed,” he repeated, more firmly, holding her gaze.

Beside her, Lucifer stepped forward, with a grin on his face so familiar it was almost comforting. 

She grabbed his arm, barely catching his attention. “Lucifer.”

He twitched at the sound. She tried again. “Lucifer.”

Marcus looked between them with barely an eyebrow raised.

“Let’s go,” she told him, pulling him gently toward her.

As they walked out, she shot one last look over her shoulder at the lieutenant. Well. At least she didn’t have to worry about losing her job because he thought she was insane.

Even though she found herself thinking it more and more, manhandling the Devil himself back to her desk.

Lucifer collapsed into the chair beside her desk and immediately began flicking through her files with restless energy. She glanced toward Dan’s empty desk before taking a seat, opening a drawer. 

“Here,” she said, thrusting something into his hands. 

“What is it?” he asked, twirling the small piece of plastic in his fingers.

“A fidget spinner.” 

He questioned it with a look. “Is it an instrument of torture? Plastic bits in places they ought not be?”

“I confiscated it from Trixie.”

“Ah,” he said, relaxing as he spun it around. “So yes?”

He seemed to figure it out, then huffed. “Only the truly mindless would find interest in such a monotonous device.”

He didn’t stop, but relaxed further back into the seat, watching it.

“Better?” she asked, pulling a file out from the same drawer and opening it in front of her, trying to relax. Focusing on her work had always helped, before.

He hummed, oddly captivated.

She tried to ignore the multiple eyes on her, on them. 

Especially the ones on her back.


	9. Chapter 9

They had just finished questioning a witness, leaving the interrogation room together, when Chloe realized how late it had become.

All day she had been careful to keep the fabric at her wrist and collar buttoned, which looked professional, but she and Lucifer knew the real reason why. 

It was odd, to have a secret between them. He hadn’t told anyone why she had shot him, in the beginning, but there was a record of him being shot – so it wasn’t lying, exactly, to say he got caught in the crossfire. 

“I assume you’ll be needing to retrieve the offspring?” Lucifer asked, holding the door open for her. 

She did a double take of her partner. “Yeah, but why do you know that?”

“I know things,” he said, a little surprised himself.

Both caught sight of Ella, who was leaning against the door of her forensic lab, a few files pressed to her chest as she looked out. Her eyes were wide, trying to catch Chloe’s gaze.

Lucifer let the door shut behind him before stepping away, looking at the ground and adjusting a cufflink before speaking. “I’ll pick up the child,” he offered, a question in his voice.

“You will?” 

He smiled assuredly. “I’ll bring her back to Lux.”

“You mean the penthouse, I hope,” she asked, looking over at Ella, who waited patiently. 

“Sure. Or that.”

She nodded, considering it. “And you’ll make sure she eats?” she asked. He grinned. “Something other than cake?”

The grin faded, but he acquiesced. 

“Don’t let her on the balcony,” she told him sternly. “Or let her get into anything… Lucifer-y.”

“You might want to define that for me, dear,” he told her, as she led them back toward her desk.

“Anything adult.”

He licked his lips, waiting for more.

“Any sex stuff.”

“Ah,” he answered, nodding. “Believe me, no one under the age of 18 is permitted access to those drawers. Ever.”

Of course _multiple_ drawers. Part of her became nervous at the thought, but unlike Maze, he had never suggested the use of any… implements. 

Okay, maybe just a couple times.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, putting away a couple files.

His eyebrows raised. “No… particular reason.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Alright,” she agreed. His face broke into a wide grin. “But I’m trusting you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he assured. 

And she knew he meant it.

He nodded once in goodbye, strolling away. 

“Lucifer!” she called out as he started up the steps. He paused, turning. “And don’t even think about letting her drive.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine!” he said, throwing up a hand. “No sense of adventure whatsoever,” he said to himself, starting briskly back up the stairs.

She shook her head, unable to stop herself from watching him leave.

She took in a deep breath, finished up at her desk, and headed toward the forensic lab, her heart racing in her chest. 

 

Lucifer unlocked the door to the apartment without a key, startling the bejesus out of the new babysitter, an older woman he recognized from around the complex.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked.

Trixie ran up to him, encasing his waist in a bear hug. “Lucifer!” she said, smiling up at him. She let go, looking out the door before he closed it. “Where’s Mommy?” she asked.

“Work,” he answered. The babysitter relaxed. He waved a hand in her general direction. “You may resume your normal… existence.”

“Lucifer,” she said slowly, enunciating the word. 

“Morningstar,” he finished, watching her as she lingered by the kitchen. “Ah!” the thought came to him, and he reached into his coat, pulling out a stack of bills. He handed her a hundred. “Will that do? I don’t know the going rate for spawn-sitting these days. Or ever,” he smiled.

Her eyes widened at the bill, but said nothing. She tucked it into her pocket. “Nice to do business with you, Mr. Morningstar,” she said, walking toward the door. “Be good Beatrice,” she called out, over her shoulder.

As the door shut, he leaned down to reach eyelevel with the child, a mischievous grin on his face. “Never,” he told her.

“Never,” she agreed.

 

“This may take a while,” Ella let Chloe know, as the detective sat at the forensics table. The small scientist stood in front of her computer screen, multi-tasking.

“It’s alright,” she nodded, unwilling to leave. “I can wait. Lucifer’s got Trixie,” she rapidly explained. “It’s fine.”

Ella remained silent for a few moments, clicking on a few things with her mouse. Every click Chloe could feel in her bones.

“Do you want to talk about –”

“No,” Chloe interrupted. “Nope. I’m fine. Just want to be thorough, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Ella assured, nodding enthusiastically. “It’s kind of like, my whole job. Being thorough.”

“Right!” Chloe agreed, still nodding.

Ella took her eyes back to the computer screen, and silence fell once more.

“But I didn’t mean, with me, exactly,” she started again. “I mean, you can always talk to me, I’m here for you whenever, 24/7, okay? But I just meant, maybe, with someone else.”

“Someone else,” Chloe repeated.

“Someone like a certain… doctor. We both know.”

Chloe initially drew a blank, but then it hit her. “Oh, Linda!” 

Ella moved to write something down, letting Chloe collect her thoughts.

“I’m not really sure that’s her sort of thing. And I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“As you keep saying.”

Chloe’s incessant nodding slowed. “Do I?” she asked.

Ella looked as though she were going to regret saying it. “A little,” she admitted. “Just a couple times. These last few minutes.”

Chloe suddenly buried her face into her hands, which had Ella come around the table lightening quick, rubbing reassuring circles onto her back. Chloe breathed in and out carefully before lifting her head out her hands, shoulders slumped. Ella rubbed her arm with her other hand. 

“I don’t get it, you know? I’m trained in this sort of thing. I know exactly what to tell people to do when they need help. Why can’t I follow my own damn advice?”

“Because you’re a kickass detective whose used to being on the other side,” Ella said confidently. “But like you said, these things happen. Too often. And it’s better to get better now, then have to dig yourself out of something to get better later, yeah?”

Something on the computer beeped. Reluctantly, Ella left Chloe’s side to go check it.

A smile broke out on her face. Chloe waited desperately.

Ella took in a deep breath, nodding.

Chloe closed her eyes and thanked God for the first time in a long, long time.


	10. Chapter 10

Chloe felt like she could breathe again. 

She drove to Lux afterward, smiled genuinely at the crowd below at the club, maybe just checking a little that Lucifer wasn’t among them.

“He’s upstairs,” a voice came from the shadows. Maze appeared, dressed to kill. 

Possibly literally.

“Hey. He is?” 

Maze shuddered as she looked to the elevator. “It’s horrible up there.”

“Coming from you, that’s terrifying,” Chloe admitted.

Maze drifted toward the stairs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Chloe watched her friend leave, then steeled herself as she hit the button. The elevator opened and she stepped inside, flashing the badge at her hip to the couple of swaying youths who also wanted in. 

As she ascended, she wondered what on Earth could have Maze, the demon with the room to match, so repulsed by the sight. She considered all the things Trixie and Lucifer could get in to. She knew her daughter wasn’t as much of a tornado as she sometimes complained, and surely she wouldn’t have torn through the library? Or any of his drawers, spewing clothing everywhere? Lucifer wouldn’t have let her get into the alcohol, or break any glass… 

Images swirled in her mind, but as the doors opened, they all stopped.

Trixie sat beside Lucifer on the bench as he played, absolutely enraptured by his fingers on the keys. He had his jacket off, and she could see the muscles as they moved underneath his white shirt. The light from the bar bathed them both in an amber glow.

The melody Lucifer played was deep and a little sad, yet hopeful.

As he came to a lull in the music, she took in a breath. The melody resumed, and she stepped inside, the elevator doors closing just as he pressed harder on the deeper keys, drowning out the sound.

She saw as he smiled toward the child at his side, swaying a little in the tune. It appeared as it he was about to stop playing, but then the notes came back again, holding long before the sweet melody returned, softer than before.

Chloe leaned against the bar, unwilling to break whatever spell was being cast upon her daughter, realizing that she had never seen Lucifer play before. She had probably never been this close to a piano, before, unless Chloe counted the old one in the band room at Trixie’s school.

As the song slowed, Lucifer showed Trixie which keys on the left to press as his right hand continued on, and they finished the song together.

Chloe clapped politely, startling Lucifer. Trixie beamed. “Isn’t it cool?” she asked.

“It’s very cool,” Chloe agreed.

Lucifer held her gaze. She was haloed in the light.

Not that she needed it for him to know.

Trixie pulled on his cuff and whispered something. He shifted over, bumping her before she got up and switched sides with him, leaving him on the left.

“Mommy, watch,” Trixie said, before focusing intently on the keys. Lucifer adjusted her position, and she began to play.

_Heart and Soul._

Lucifer’s part came in, which he played as he looked over his shoulder to see her reaction.

His brows furrowed, confused.

This had happened once before, when he thought he was doing something nice, when he told her that he was sure her father would be proud of her.

Her eyes had welled with tears. 

Trixie hit the wrong note, and he turned away momentarily to gently correct her positioning, stopping his own playing.

The girl looked over his shoulder. 

Softly, Chloe took his face in her hands, turning his back. She sat beside him on the bench and captured his mouth in a kiss. 

Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm behind her waist, and she relaxed into his touch. 

A tiny, very obvious clearing of the throat got both of their attentions, and they pulled away from one another, a laugh mingling on their lips.

Chloe pressed her forehead to his, her eyes closed, shaking her head.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I can’t believe I love the Devil,” she told him.

A rush of air brushed the hair off her shoulder, and Trixie’s sudden, surprised laugh echoed throughout the apartment. Chloe joined in her daughter’s laughter.

_“Bloody Hell!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Lucifer was playing, _Nuvole Bianche_ (White Clouds) by Ludovico Einaudi.  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2WfldE6DgfU


End file.
